


The New Boy

by TitansRule



Series: Veritas [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Fluff, Gen, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 02:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TitansRule/pseuds/TitansRule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jessica Brown is surprised when her neighbours suddenly acquire another child. But it doesn't take her long to realise that something isn't right ...<br/>Jess and Harry's first meeting, part of the 'Veritas' series, set before 'Uncovering the Truth'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This story can be read alone, or as part of the Veritas series.

When Jessica Brown woke up in hospital on August 2nd 1982, she was confused, not least because she couldn’t remember how she’d got there.

She could tell the doctors her name, where she lived and who her parents were – had been (they’d died in a car crash four years previously) – but she couldn’t actually _remember_ anything.

She just knew it had happened.

She had been found, doctors told her, by the postman, who had knocked on the door to deliver a package. She was a creature of habit, so when he hadn’t answered, he had become concerned and peered through the letter box to see her lying motionless at the bottom of the stairs.

An ambulance was duly called and she awoke a day later, only able to offer a tentative explanation of falling down the stairs.

The doctors gave her some pain-killers and discharged her, once they were certain that she was in no further danger.

As soon as she got home, she climbed the stairs and found the culprit in her accident – the carpet had become loose and must have tripped her on her way downstairs that morning.

She had been assured that her almost-amnesia would disappear over time, but so far she had seen no improvement. She could remember that she grew up in America, before moving to England to finish her schooling after her parents’ deaths, but she couldn’t actually remember doing it.

Jessica was also clueless to her reasoning for moving to the small neighbourhood in Surrey where she lived.

A creature of habit she may have been, but Privet Drive was just so boring, full of nice little families, where the men went off to work and the women spent their time organising cake sales and gossiping over the garden fence.

The Dursleys, who lived next door, were by far the worst.

Jessica couldn’t stand them.

She tried to be friendly and, more often than not, she managed it, but they were just so … _normal._

Abnormally normal, in fact.

No one went out of their way to ‘normal’ like the Dursleys did.

Mr Dursley – Vernon – was a very large man with even larger moustache, and a horrible temper. He went to work at precisely eight o’clock every morning, and came home at precisely six o’clock every night.

Jessica had no idea what Mrs Dursley saw in him, because Petunia was the exact opposite – she was thin and bony, and unlike her husband – who tended to ignore Jessica – insisted on engaging her in conversation every time she had the chance.

Their son, Dudley, was a little angel. He was the cleverest, most adorable child anyone could ever have pleasure to meet.

At least, that was what they thought.

If you were to ask Jessica, she would have told you that he was spoilt brat who was destined to be trouble. Unfortunately for Jessica, she was a writer, with a column in the local newspaper, so she worked from home and all she could hear, day in, day out, was Dudley screaming for whatever toy or sweet he wanted now.

The worst part was that his mother gave into him, without fail.

It was driving Jessica mental, and she was starting to consider moving – deadlines were starting to creep up on her and apparently (though she couldn’t remember doing this either) she had offered her services as a baby-sitter when the Dursleys had first brought Dudley home, and she was dreading the day they took her up on it.

One morning in early November, everything changed.

Jessica was just returning from the local shops, having realised just before her mid-morning cup of tea that she had run out of milk, when she saw Mrs Dursley walking towards her, pushing a pram.

This surprised her somewhat, because she hadn’t seen Dudley in a pram for a while – the little darling didn’t like it, so Mrs Dursley preferred carrying him everywhere.

“Good morning, Jessica dear!” Mrs Dursley greeted.

Jessica forced a smile on to her face. She knew that Mrs Dursley didn’t really like her; like most of the women in the neighbourhood, she was hoping for fresh gossip. “Good morning, Mrs Dursley; how are you this morning?”

“Oh, I’m just fine.” Mrs Dursley said, moving quickly past her. “I must be going, dear; I’m in an awful hurry.”

This surprised Jessica as well. Normally Mrs Dursley liked nothing more than to stop and tell her all about her son and what wonders he had performed lately.

Last time, it had been his new word ‘shan’t’, which didn’t endear him to Jessica at all.

At that moment, the wheel of the pram became stuck, forcing Mrs Dursley to stop.

“Oh, here.” Jessica bent down and carefully removed the stone that had become wedged in the gap. “I hate it when that happens.” As she straightened up again, she caught sight of green eyes peering at her from the pram. “Goodness me! Where did he come from?”

Dudley, of course, was bundled up at one end, looking very sulky, his cheeks fatter than they should have been, even at that age.

But at the other end, dangerously exposed to the elements, was another little boy, with dark tousled hair and bright green eyes gazing curiously at her. He was wearing a thin baby-grow and he had the most curiously shaped cut on his forehead.

Mrs Dursley bristled. “My sister’s boy.” She said briskly. “She and her husband died in a car crash a few days ago.”

“Oh!” Jessica wasn’t quite sure what to say. She wanted to believe that Mrs Dursley’s blunt tone was due to grief, but something told her it wasn’t. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be.” Mrs Dursley told her with a frown. “She was a freak – and her good-for-nothing husband was no better. World’s better off without them if you ask me.”

Jessica fought to keep a straight face. That poor little boy … growing up hearing _that_ about his dead parents. Even if it _was_ true, it was a horrible thought.

“Well, if you ever need someone to watch him, you know where to find me.” She tried not to stress the ‘him’, but – really – the little boy looked much more manageable than Dudley.

Mrs Dursley looked like she’d just been let off a death sentence. “Oh, thank you, dear; that is kind of you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Jessica told her with another fake smile. She let Mrs Dursley pass her and set off home.

Once she’d made herself a cup of tea, Jessica thought about the little boy in the pram. She didn’t even know his name.

She wondered what Mrs Dursley’s sister had done to earn the title ‘freak’. Knowing the Dursleys as she did, it could have been anything, because ‘abnormal’ to the Dursleys basically translated into ‘anyone who wasn’t like them’.

And anyone who wasn’t like the Dursleys was someone that Jessica would have loved to get to know.

Two days later, Jessica was interrupted mid-sentence by a knock at the door. She grumbled, losing her inspiration, and went to answer, somehow unsurprised to find Mrs Dursley standing on the doorstep.

“Hello, Jessica dear!” She trilled.

“Good morning Mrs Dursley,” Jessica greeted, wondering if perhaps the woman thought that her name really was ‘Jessica-dear’.

“Vernon has an all-day conference up in London,” Mrs Dursley told her, “and I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer you made the other day.”

Jessica suppressed a groan. She had a deadline that she had to meet – noon the following day – but she had made the offer. “Of course, Mrs Dursley. Have they had their breakfast?”

Mrs Dursley laughed falsely. “Oh, not to worry, dear. Dudders is coming with us. He’s so excited.”

Looking past her, Jessica could indeed see Dudley in his car seat in the back of the Dursleys’ car. He was red in the face from screaming. “I’m sure he is.”

“No, it’s this one.” Mrs Dursley said, pointing down. “I’m terribly sorry about leaving the boy with you, dear, but there just wasn’t anyone else on such short notice.”

Jessica didn’t bother asking why she wasn’t taking her nephew – the tone of disgust that had entered the woman’s voice spoke for itself. She looked down, and saw the little boy sitting on the doorstep. He looked a lot younger than Dudley, but then he was probably the normal size for a child of his age (he looked to be about a year old).

She bent down and picked the child up, and he instinctively cuddled into her. “What’s his name? I don’t think you mentioned it.”

“Harry. Harry Potter.” Mrs Dursley frowned. “Nasty, common name, if you ask me.”

“And how old is he?” Jessica asked, ignoring the comment.

“Fifteen months.”

Jessica could see her getting anxious to leave, but couldn’t help thinking that something was missing. “Is he still on formula milk or is he eating solid food?”

“Does it matter?” Mrs Dursley asked. “Thank you for watching him, dear. We’ll be back around five.”

And then she had fled down the path, leaving Jessica to close the door after her.

She carried Harry back into the living room, sitting down with him. “Well, Harry, your aunt is a lovely woman, isn’t she?”

Harry looked up at her in bewilderment, and Jessica smiled at him, bouncing him on her knee. “You are a handsome young man, aren’t you? I wonder what happened here.” She brushed a finger across the healing cut on his forehead. It had to be a couple of days old, which fit with the time his parents were killed, but she’d never seen a cut like that caused by a car crash – almost like a bolt of lightning.

She also hadn’t heard anything on the news about a car accident like that – the death of a young couple and the orphaning of their son would normally have made the news.

But then maybe the Potters hadn’t lived in Surrey – and it would be more likely to make local news, unless there was something untoward going on.

At the same time, it seemed strange that Vernon and Petunia had been granted custody of their nephew – unless, of course, the Potters hadn’t had Wills. A lot of people didn’t, and a young couple were hardly likely to think that they would be killed.

“My name’s Jessica, Harry.” She said softly.

Harry blinked at her, touching her face with a tiny hand. “’Ess?”

Jessica couldn’t help the way her heart clenched, but then she realised the smell that hung around the boy. “Oh, dear. Have you …?” She trailed off, checking his nappy before jumping to her feet in disgust. “Oh, you poor thing. Have they changed you at all in the last few days?”

Harry started to sob, and she held him close, gagging slightly through the stench. “Oh, it’s alright, Harry. It’s okay, sweetheart; it’s not your fault.” She carried him upstairs, still cooing to him, and filled her bathroom sink with lukewarm water. “Now I haven’t got any nappies, sweetheart, so we’ll have to improvise for the moment and go shopping later.”

Stripping off Harry’s baby-grow, she realised quickly that he probably hadn’t been changed since he arrived in Privet Drive. His nappy went straight in the bin, and he suddenly became a little lighter.

“Oh, that woman!” Jessica muttered, placing Harry carefully in the water. “No matter what your mother may have done, Harry, it’s no excuse to treat a child like this.” She bit back a curse as the water almost immediately turned a horrible murky brown. “Oh, Harry …”

She knew that she shouldn’t technically use normal soap on a young child, but this was an emergency – she would give him another bath later so that it wouldn’t irritate him.

Once Harry was clean, Jessica fashioned a nappy out of an old towel and reluctantly redressed him in his dirty clothes. “I know this is uncomfortable, poppet.” She cooed, as Harry squirmed. “It’s just for a little while, I promise.”

Understandably, Harry didn’t stop whimpering as Jessica rushed downstairs and grabbed her car keys from the coffee table.

Then she paused. She couldn’t take Harry in the car – she had no car seat.  “Great. Looks like we’re walking then.”

The weather seemed to reflect her frustration. Rain pounded out of grey skies, trees battled to stay upright against the cruel north wind.

Jess couldn’t hear Harry’s whimpering anymore, but she could feel it, as she walked the ten minutes to the local shops, cooing to him the whole way.

No one paid her any attention as she entered the closest thing they had to a supermarket – they were all too busy getting their own shopping done before the weather got any worse.

The girl behind the counter couldn’t have been older than sixteen, her eyes almost glazed over as she scanned the nappies, baby-cream, baby-food, bottles and milk powder.

Jessica rolled her eyes, digging in her pocket for her purse. Most of the high-school students who had part-time jobs round here were completely gormless, but this was a particularly slow one.

Fifteen minutes later, they were back in Jessica’s living room, and she had swapped the towel for a proper nappy, throwing the towel straight in her washing machine.

“That’s better, sweetheart.” Jess said with a smile, as Harry finally grinned up at her. “Oh, you are a gorgeous boy, aren’t you?”

Harry giggled, apparently much more comfortable, and tugged a strand of her hair as she picked him up again.

“Alright, let’s get you something to eat.”

Unsure whether he had started solid foods yet, Jessica decided to start with the baby food. If he didn’t take it, she reasoned, he probably wasn’t used to it. She followed the instructions on the jar of baby porridge and warmed it up.

It didn’t look very appetising and she tried a tiny piece of it, grimacing at the taste. “Good Lord, who would feed their child that?!”

She added some milk and mashed banana, and tried again. That tasted better, and she offered Harry a spoonful.

He ate it eagerly, opening his mouth for another like a baby bird.

_He eats like he’s starving._

“Oh, Harry …” Jessica sighed, as he emptied the bowl in record time. He gave her another cheeky smile, before yawning widely. “Alright, sweetheart, let’s lay you down for a nap.”

She didn’t have a cot, so she laid a blanket out on the floor and set him down. He wiggled to get comfortable, and fell asleep quickly.

Jessica brought her notepad over and rested it on her knees, continuing with her article where she could watch over him.

The rest of the day passed quickly, and Jessica was quite disappointed when the doorbell rang at five-thirty. She opened it with Harry balanced on her hip, and wasn’t surprised to note that he showed no signs of excitement at the sight of his aunt.

“How was he?” Mrs Dursley asked, making no move to take Harry from her.

“He was a little angel.” Jessica said with a smile. “Anytime you need someone to watch him, feel free to ask.”

Mrs Dursley’s face seemed to light up. “Oh, thank you, dear; that is kind of you.” She handed Jessica a couple of twenty-pound notes and took Harry, holding him like a bomb that was about to go off. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye Mrs Dursley.” Jessica’s face softened as she looked at Harry, who was gazing at her in bewilderment. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Ni’ ‘Ess.” Harry said quietly.

Jessica’s heart clenched as she closed the door, and she returned to the living room, thinking hard. After fighting with herself for a few minutes, she retrieved the telephone book from under the stairs and flicked through it, before reaching for the phone and dialling the number.

She waited, twirling the telephone cord around her finger.

_“Good evening, Surrey County Council.”_

“Hello, my name is Jessica Brown; I live in Little Whinging. Could you put me through to Social Services please?”

_“Please hold.”_

The hold music started playing and Jessica leaned back against the sofa, her heart thudding.

_“Social Services, this is Darren speaking, how can I help?”_

“Oh, hi. I’d like to report a possible case of child neglect.” Jessica said, much calmer than she felt. She explained everything that had happened that day, her observations and her suspicions.

‘Darren’ seemed very sympathetic. _“Well, you’re right, Miss Brown; there are some strange circumstances here. If you could give me the name of the child and his place of residence, we’ll get someone to go and take a look.”  
_

Jessica breathed a sigh of relief. “His name is Harry Potter, and he lives at Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging. Do you need the post-code?”

But his response startled her. _“Not to worry, ma’am. Measures are already in place. Good day.”_

The dial tone sounded, signalling that he had hung up. Jessica replaced the handset. _Measures are already in place_ … What the hell did that mean?

Were they already aware of the situation?

Jessica hadn’t seen anyone come to visit the Dursleys, but …

She groaned.

Of course … Mrs Dursley was always bragging about her husband’s friends in high places; it was how the man had never been given a speeding ticket despite his numerous offences.

Was it really so difficult to believe that there was a ‘friend’ in Social Services too?

Making her mind up, Jessica abandoned her still-unfinished article and grabbed her car keys.

If the council weren’t going to do anything for Harry, she was going to have to instead, which meant stocking up on certain items.

If Harry was going to spend as much time with her as possible, he’d need a cot for a start. And clothes, and toys …

The Dursleys might not be prepared to give Harry a childhood, but Jessica was going to make damn sure he got one.


End file.
